Immediately, a warm backdraft of old cooking and furniture polish washed over them, and Maddy squeezed her daughter’s shoulder in a gentle reminder to be polite. She knew Theresa had made a face at the smell.
“Yes, yes, what’sit I can help with?”
The man in the doorway would have been taller than Maddy had he not been hunched at the waist, shoving his headful of steelwool hair outwards like the prow of a ship. His face was prominently-boned - though not exactly bony - in a way that would have looked regal, had he been dressed more neatly. The up-tilt of his chin gave the impression of one familiar with respect.
He blinked when he saw Maddy. Then again, owlishly, when he saw Theresa fawning over one of his pet moles.
“Good morning, Bernard.” Maddy half-curtsied and smiled mildly.
Bernard appeared to flounder for a moment, eyelids fluttering and squinting, but Maddy continued smiling and pretended to not notice. “Hope we aren’t interrupting anything?”
The man cleared his throat fiercely, twice, and began straightening a tie that was not there. “Oh. No, ah. Maddy! Yes. Good morning!”
He had tried a variety of tones and volumes and seemed dissatisfied with each in turn. Though, in all fairness to the man's composure, he seemed mostly preoccupied with Theresa’s squeaking hostage.
“Isn’t it, though? We’ll take up as little of it as possible, then, Bernard. I’m needing some more advice about my home.”
“Oh! Your house. Yes. You’ve had troubles with that.” The man hesitated, looking from her to Theresa to the mole and drumming his fingers against the doorjamb. For a moment, Maddy braced herself for more insistent questions, but instead he asked “Tea?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
He led her into the sitting room - very well-kept, for a bachelor’s, though the classic armchairs and table clashed wincingly with the sleek new sofa. Theresa had already slunk inside and was making nimble work of cornering yet another mole. The pitiful thing scuttled in dim, feeble panic, apparently having caught wind of a grabby predator near, but the beaming Theresa snared it with adoring ease. Maddy chided her daughter half-heartedly while Bernard looked on, clearly uncomfortable.
“Careful, there, with Agamemnon,” he warned hesitantly, lowering himself into a squat armchair. He gestured for Maddy to follow suit on the sofa. “He’s been a uh, a bit of a crab lately. A bit nibbly.”
Theresa had been giggling quietly and grinning her ill-fitted grin, but both were dropped like hot plates as she turned to look at Bernard. She tried for a polite smile and fumbled it horribly. Instead, Theresa simply nodded, all while blithely avoiding the boiling snaps and snarls of her furious captive.
Bernard nodded back. He was smirking good-naturedly. Settling down into his familiar armchair appeared to have a grounding effect on him, had given him a better sense of things. The almost-regal man cleared his throat once before sitting back and tossing one knee over the other.
“Marvelous. Marvelous.” Bernard propped his elbows against the armrests and began folding and rolling his hands, peering pensively at Maddy from behind them. “Well then, if I may ask a question or two regarding your question or two?”
“Of course.”
Maddy waited long enough for the man to distractedly scrub his stubble and open his mouth, before interrupting him with a smiling “Tea?”
Bernard’s face crumpled. His hands began to nearly wring themselves, instead. “Yes! Tea. That’s what I dragged you in here for to begin with, wasn’t it?”
Maddy watched from the corner of her eye as her host fussed away to the kitchen, muttering something charming and apologetic over his shoulder. She waited until he had cleared earshot before sighing quietly.
This... this will become delicate. It was vital that Maddy watch her step. Bernard’s mind was a devilishly well-polished trap for any inconsistence of story, or hiccup of logic - or outright lie, of course. Forty years as an attorney makes for exquisite polish. Bernard had a sort of intimidated respect for Maddy, and so was quick to assist her whenever he was able, but Maddy knew for a fact that the man’s perceptiveness would not be overruled by his obliging nature.
If only the polish had gone the way of the courtroom attire. Maddy thought, but grimaced and shook the silly thought away. Concentration. That was the name of the game, now. She had formed a general plan of attack while making breakfast, then mentally smoothed and folded and unfolded it on the drive over. Now was the time to steel herself, and execute.
“Cookies, Maddy?” Bernard shouted. Maddy tensed at the sound, then relaxed, and frowned; her head had lately become more and more unruly. More given to drifting.
If you act that way while talking, he'll sniff you out in a heartbeat. Sharpen up. Maddy thought, trying to bully herself into attentiveness. The warm weather was to blame, she decided.
“Maddy?” He sounded muffled, like he was wading chin-deep through boxes. “I said, would you like some cookies, as well?”
“Please.”
“What’sat?”
“Ah, yes, please!”
The man reappeared soon after, saddled with a crowded tea tray and chortling warmly. “No need to shout, you know!”
Maddy grinned at the joke.
Once the tea and surprisingly nice cookies - macadamia, Maddy noted, pleased - had been properly fretted over by the host, Bernard again settled into himself. The difference in presence, compared to what he had greeted Maddy and Theresa with, was striking.
“Wonderful! Well then, young Maddy.” Bernard swept his knuckly hand grandly, giving her the floor. “If you feel so inclined.”
That would have been nice. Regardless, Maddy bit the bullet. “It’s not very cut-and-dry, sad to say. Along the lines of the usual. Last month, you lent us that -- to put over the hearth, you said --”
“Horseshoe, yes.” His hands were again rolling and folding over one another. “Very good to set up, in structures with rebellious natures. Only manmade ones, however. Hauntings and the like. I've read, in my leisure, that they fixate upon it, for some reason - the shape, I think. The curve appeals to them, as it's not exactly common to see in buildings."
If he hadn't been up to snuff as an attorney, Maddy thought, he would've made a very fine professor.
" - and so once they've done that, if you flip the little thing around, well!" He gave a bubbly chuckle before biting into a cookie. "I imagine it's a bit like what we feel, when playing Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey. Blinded and spun!"
Bernard continued chuckling for a moment, appreciating his clever analogy, before catching himself up to the discussion on-hand. He frowned. "But it sounds like that's no help to you?"
“Oh, no, it helps," Maddy said quickly, placing her cup down. The tea was a bit strong. “It certainly helps. But it seems that - most the time - I have to pair it with a little something else, at least if I want to get anywhere.”
“Something else?”
“Just, you know...” She waved vaguely, casting about for a typical homeowner's response. Whatever that might be. Bernard’s eyes widened as they fixed upon Maddy's hand, and she hesitated before going on. “Bargaining, bullying...”
“... bludgeoning?” Bernard smirked. Maddy was jarred before realizing that her knuckles were a parkinglot oilspill of bruises.
The man guffawed, loudly and good-naturedly, at the sheepish look on the face of his guest. Between the laughter and the wide, appreciative smirk, the skin of his face threatened to split over his broad skull. “You told me, back the other time, that it’s - what was it you said.. a wonderful opportunity to test your patience, Maddy? What happened there?”
“Yes... well.” Maddy toyed with the rim of her teacup, a rueful smile creeping up her chin. “No one passes every test.”
"Too true, too true." Bernard agreed, relenting. His mirth had dried up into contented humming. “Though, it’s always been... challenging, for a house, hasn’t it? You say you inherited it?”
“Mmm, yes. My great great uncle was an architect. Designed it himself.”
“Is that right!" The man grinned. "And how did your great great aunt feel about that?”
Maddy raised an eyebrow in mock disdain, but a twitch of the lips gave her away. “He meant well, you know. Saw it as a sort of... security effort, I think. A lock's only useful 'til it's broken, was his logic." Which was very true, very sound logic. But his solution seemed grossly lacking in such. "Said he was going to sell the idea to a dying pharaoh, one day - set himself up for life.”
“Then, does it work? Is it effective?”
“There's no telling. We've never needed it.” Maddy paused with a cookie halfway to her mouth. “Which might be a 'yes'? Now that I think of it, we don’t go down to the cellar often - it may be a good idea to check for skeletons --”
Bernard spluttered tea on himself.
“Overall security, though, is not the issue. At least not really. I'd like to find a way to keep the house fixed to a certain layout, until its shifting around would actually be to our benefit." She took another sip of tea, to cover her held breath. Breach it easy. Steady. "Though possibly, it's useless to begin with... We’ve been getting pests, lately, in and out...
Bernard's mouth twisted in squeamish sympathy. “Pests?”
“Yes, you know. Rats.”
“Rats again?”
“Rats do seem to love us. The masochists." Maddy grimaced, apparently irritated at the thought. In realty a bit of macadamia had lodged between two of her molars. "And a raccoon in the attic, I think. I heard it cackling the other night.”
“Hmmm." The rolling and folding of Bernard's hands slowed. His lips pursed. "So you’re looking to discipline the house, while at the same time improve security.”
“Something like that, yes.” Maddy adopted a lazy pace in sugaring her second cup of tea. All the while, she watched Bernard from the edge of her vision; his change in behavior, this sudden deliberateness, gave her a tickle of unease. “'Insulation' might be the better word.”
He said nothing. Again, Bernard began to scrub his stubble.
Humid, viscous instinct suddenly flared to life in Maddy's stomach, and screamed run! seconds before the entire atmosphere of the room shifted.
Bernard's voice was level when he asked "What happened to your arm, Madeline?" but his face was running full-mast with alarm and whirling thought. Maddy had missed a spot, covering her pink skin with makeup.
Cheap snake oil. Maddy seethed at herself. "Bernard, you --"
He exploded out of his chair, spine straightening boldly but retreating backwards from the sofa. "No rat did that to you, Madeline! What i--"
There was a spasm of sound as the teatray was rattled and Maddy appeared directly in front of Bernard, hand clapped over his mouth and face silently furious.
"Be quiet."
The two froze. For the most part, at least; Bernard's chest was gradually picking up speed in its swelling and falling, panic eating away at his lungs. Having his mouth forced shut was unlikely to be helpful.
Maddy could care less at the moment. She was straining her ears and staring hard at nothing. You're somewhere upstairs, aren't you, sunshine? You didn't hear all that. You're not sitting in the hall. Right, sweetie?
Sandpaper moments grated past, one after another. Then a rumble of feet and a glimmer of laughter came floating down from the ceiling, and Maddy nearly sagged with relief.
But there was absolutely no time for that. Maddy had a very intelligent, very alarmed man to deal with for now. She had gambled, and she had lost, and now she had to explain. The question in his eyes - How's Theresa involved in this? - was the most twisting one he could have possibly asked. It was also the only one that really mattered. Maddy's mouth felt sour.
She kept Bernard muffled, for the moment, and began.
"Theresa... Theresa is very good at finding things. You know this, already." Bernard was glaring searchingly, waiting for Maddy to go on, or for the information to pool together with something else in his mind. Satisfied that the man would listen, Maddy removed her hand. "Last night, when she was asleep, I think she found something by accident."
"Something dan--"
"You keep your voice down."
"... something dangerous, clearly." Bernard licked his lips, shooting another jittery glance at the newly-healed skin. Then licked his lips again. "And if - whatever it was, this rat of yours - if it had gotten loose in the town?"
Maddy looked at him squarely, levelly, stonily. She might have been carved out of raw confidence. But her voice had dropped when she said "That wouldn't have happened, Bernard."
“It’s...!" He muffled himself and took several slow, soothing breaths, through his nose. He paced away from Maddy and brought his bony hands to his temples. “You’re letting things in, and...!”
"This situation will correct itself, Bernard." Maddy fought the urge to step closer to him. He just might have bolted, then. "She's come into herself younger than most do, usually, but it's not unheard of. It's not dangerous. I will get her a tutor, very soon. It will be fine, Bernard."
"Fine," he laughed, quietly but harshly. "'Fine,' she says. The chewtoy says."
"Bernard --"
"It was fine this time. Luck could account for that," he nearly sneered. Then turned abruptly pleading. "Maddy, surely you can see this is absurd. Even you can't fight off everything, and if she... if she were to find something worse--"
"I only need something temporary, Bernard," she barreled over him. "Anything temporary. Just insulation. Just until I can find her a fitting tutor."
“This... this is a community, Madeline. A safe, healthy community. You’ve your biases and I’ve mine, but none should come into play when it’s time for safety." He licked his lips anxiously, eyeing her. "Do you understand? When it's time for... for separating the wheat from the chaff, as it were --"
“‘Separating the wheat from the chaff’ applies to wheat - and - chaff.” Maddy’s eyes had never been what one would call kind, but as she spoke they frothed over with a vulpine gleam. Shrewd voracity leered out from them like animals from caves. “Not. People.”
He heaved a weary sigh, and looked at her pityingly. His face was unreadable to her, at first. Then instinct - that clever old friend - squirmed warningly inside of Maddy, and realization came thundering down like a bombshell freighttrain, and her face brightened with acute horror.
"Maddy..."
"Don't you put it into words." Her voice was a cold sizzle. "Don't you put it in the open air, not while I'm breathing it."
"There are safer places for her, M --"
Bernard was cut off by his own yelp, staggering backwards against the wall. Maddy had lunged, and though her hands were limp and harmless, they were collaring Bernard's neck.
"I am not sending my child away, Bernard." A simple fact. Deadly soft, and simple. "Nor will anyone take her from me."
She looked hard at him, but Bernard said nothing. Fear and anger but also pity and remorse looked back at Maddy.
"Nor will you say a word of this. To anyone - anyone - who might arrange for such."
Maddy felt no joy in threatening people. Certainly not against a friendly man like Bernard. But at the moment, she would not have thought twice about holding a knife to the world's throat.
Her hands relaxed further and slid outwards, slowly. They settled on Bernard's shoulders.
"... do you understand?"
He said nothing, only continued to eye Maddy closely. She felt the urge to apologize - for nearly knocking over his teatray, at the least - but refused to risk undermining herself. Risk cheapening her conviction from mere seconds ago. Then, she would have to threaten him all over.
"I have nothing that would help you, Maddy." Bernard's voice was hoarse, when he finally spoke, and was that a trace of regret? "But I won't go to the authorities, either."
There - that was twice, today, that she had nearly sagged in relief.
"... but if I feel this town is in danger, Madeline..."
Her attention snapped back. She thought for a moment, and then nodded. It was as fair a compromise as she could hope for.
"Can you point me in the right direction, then. A tutor for her."
"I can't." He brought his huge fossil hands upwards and removed her from his shoulders. "Good luck, Maddy." Then, with little ceremony, he turned and tottered stiffly towards his kitchen. She took this as her dismissal.
After a moment, Maddy had gathered herself enough to call her daughter down, and lead her back outside. The last thing she wanted form the day was Theresa to see or smell someone with alcohol, even if they managed only to spill it on themselves from shaking so badly.
(( I really like the word "macadamia." Apparently.
Also, what the hell is the thing with the rats, man
Also DON'T MATCH 2800 WORDS OH MY GOD WHY DID I TYPE THAT MUCH ))
